


Kindness Repaid

by Simara



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1, Claustrophobia, Developing Relationship, Food, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan Crane is a human mess, M/M, Self Care, cellmates to friends to lovers, everyone is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 18:40:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13576602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: Five acts of kindness they committed for each other (that no one will ever know about) and the one time Jonathan held Edward’s hand (even though the Batman was standing right next to them).





	Kindness Repaid

 

**Kindness Repaid**

 

_"A random act of kindness, no matter how small, can make a tremendous impact on someone else's life.”_  
_\- Roy T.  Bennett_

 

1.

There was something fascinating in watching Jonathan eat. Edward had never known anyone who seemed this disinterested in food. If placed in front of him, he would eat it, almost automatically until something else caught his attention at which point he’d apparently forget that the human body needed some basic nourishment to function.  
“You’re never hungry, are you?” Edward said, as Jonathan lowered his cup of tea. The question led Jonathan to raise his eyes and look at his almost untouched plate with something like surprise.  
“Oh, I could have sworn…” He trailed off. “No Edward, I’m seldom hungry.” Edward watched as he took a bite of his food with little to no enthusiasm. Usually, Jonathan wouldn’t even bother to go on eating at this point, but he wasn’t allowed to leave the lunch room before he had cleaned his plate anymore. Edward had overheard the nurses snicker about it, yesterday, when he’d tried to smuggle some painkillers out of the medical ward. Some Doctor had put her foot down and made it her personal mission to stabilize the Scarecrow’s weight. She was also the one who’d made the director include fruit in the inmates’ diet which Edward, who admittedly had quite a sweet tooth, saw as a welcome change. There was no actual candy at Arkham and fruit was as good as it got.  
It was almost time to escort the inmates back to their cells, and Jonathan had only cleared about half his plate. Instead of getting it over with, he made a go for the tea again but Edward snatched the cup before he could reach it. Jonathan glared at him.  
“What are you doing?”  
“I’m trying to help you, you moron. Just eat your food already, I don’t want to stay here till noon. It’s no wonder you’re not hungry if you keep filling up on tea!” He knew, of cause, that he wouldn’t have to stay at his cellmate’s side through this ordeal, but he damn well would, just to make sure.  
“You’re a nuisance”, Jonathan said. It sounded almost like a term of endearment.

 

 

2.

Jonathan rubbed his eyes with a weary expression. Talk, talk, talk; that’s all Nygma ever did. It wasn’t always easy to tune that babbling voice out. Reading usually helped to achieve said goal though, which is why he grabbed a book, eager to focus on something more pleasant than – Nygma’s voice broke, all of a sudden. Jonathan’s head jerked upwards. He saw his cell-mate gulp and turn away in an awkward attempt to hide his face. _Oh_ , Jonathan thought, closing the book again. _I should have noticed_. There were days, days like this, where it didn’t do to ignore Edward. Days, where ignoring him might actually shut him up.  
“Would you mind to repeat that last bit?” Jonathan asked casually. “My attention slipped for a moment.” He heard Edward scoff.  
“Never mind, I didn’t mean to bore you.” Jonathan fought down a sight. He took Edward’s hand into his own and gave a little tug, much to Edward’s surprise.  
“Come sit down and talk to me, you silly boy.”  
“I wouldn’t know what about”, came the weak protest that Jonathan stifled with a roll of his eye.  
“Anything will do, really. Tell me about your day, or your opinion on psychoanalysis, or your favourite novel. I will listen.” Another gentle tug at Edward’s hand. Edward looked a him in disbelieve.  
“Why?” Jonathan’s lip twitched. _Because I have been trained to recognize the first signs of a psychotic break and don’t want you to have one right in front of me._  
“Because I care.” It was only half a lie.

 

 

3.

Edward closed his eyes for a second, grounding himself. Their plan had been a complete disaster; they might just be the first super villains who managed to get themselves locked into a strong room. There was no way out – Edward had already considered every possible escape plan – and the police was probably already on their way. All they could do now was wait. Edward could hear Jonathan’s breathing quicken and turned to look at him.  
“Jonathan?” No reaction. Edward took a step towards him and froze mid-motion as he realized that Jonathan seemed very much focused on not hyperventilating. Edward raised an eyebrow. “Jon, are you okay?”  
“I might have forgotten to tell you”, Jonathan said in a voice that was a little too hectic, a little too anxious to sound like his own. “That I happen to be somewhat claustrophobic.” He was shaking by now and tried to steady himself by leaning against the vault door, only to end up sliding to the floor soon afterwards, breathing hitched. His eyes where hectic, flickering across the room. No escape. Edward just stood there, somewhat helpless, looking at his almost friend. He hadn’t the slightest idea how he should handle this situation.  
“Uhm”, he sat down in front of Jonathan, trying hard not to wring his hands. “Can I do something?” It took Jonathan a moment to find the will to look at Edward.  
“I need to focus”, he said through clenched teeth. “Breathe. Relax.” It sounded bitter, sardonic and still very much not quite like Jonathan. Edward nodded and bit his lip, trying to remember all he’d ever read about anxieties. Then he smiled.  
“You’re gonna hate me for this”, he said and started to sing. At first, Jonathan looked at him as though he was crazy. Edward just crooked an eyebrow but didn’t stop. Singing was ideal to slow your breathing, Jon knew that, and he forced himself to swallow his pride and join in, voice cracking:  
_One for sorrow_  
_Two for mirth_  
_Three for a funeral_  
_Four for a birth_  
_Five for silver_  
_Six for gold_  
Edward couldn’t help but smile as Jonathan’s voice grew more and more steady.  
_Seven for a secret_  
_Never to be told_  
_Eight for a wish_  
_Nine for a kiss_  
_Ten for a bird_  
_You must not-_  
Jonathan’s voice already trailed off but Edward didn’t miss a beat and started over again.  
_One for sorrow…_

  
It took the police almost an hour to open the vault and when they finally entered, they found two man sitting on the floor, exhausted.

 

 

4.

Strangely enough, Edward was being very quiet. He lay in his bunk, skimming through a novel. Jonathan glanced at the cover. _Mansfield Park_.  
“Austen? Really?” Edward froze and almost blushed a little. His voice grew defensive.  
“Well, the asylum’s library isn’t particularly well stocked. You of all people should know that.”  
“Oh, I’m not judging. Austen’s social commentary is often underappreciated.” It took Edward a lot of mental strength not to reply with an overly enthusiastic ‘I know, right?’. Instead he offered, coldly:  
“So, you’re into romances, then?”  
“Not necessarily. I do appreciate some of the gothic classics – _Wuthering Heights_ , for instance, but I don’t usually go for romances, no.”  
“No surprise there.” Edward put the book aside and sat up. “I prefer _Jane Eyre_ to the _Heights,_ though.”  
“You _are_ a romance reader, then.” Edward shrugged and gave an almost sheepish smile.  
“What can I say? I am a bit of a dandy. There’s something tempting in these stories about well-dressed people spewing angry witticisms at each other.” Jonathan allowed the hint of a smile to flicker across his face.  
“That’s one way of looking at it. Is this one delivering what you were looking for?”  
"It’s good enough. I’m almost through, though, and the upcoming solution is already putting me off.”  
“No happy ending for the dandy, huh?” Edward’s smile turned cruel.  
“Reality dictates fiction.” What Jonathan took away from this little chat was that reading seemed to sooth Edward. His bitterness rubbed Jonathan the wrong way though and the side of him that was still longing to be a psychologist once more made an inner note about it.

The sadistic thing about Arkham Asylum's library program was that inmates were allowed one book a month at most. Jonathan was always very careful selecting the tome he would gorge on, choosing only those volumes that were lengthy and worthy of consumption. This time he had fixed his eyes on a selection of essays on early Grand-Guignol performances when he got distracted by a bright scarlet spine. He picked it up and scanned the cover.

He unceremoniously dropped the book on the rec-room table in front of a sulking Edward. It was one of his not-so-good days and it showed. His cubicles were bitten and his accent did that thing were it sounded too posh to be authentic.  
“Your book is awfully close to my face” Edward snapped, not really paying attention.  
“It reminded me of you”, Jonathan said, trying hard to sound cold and unaffected. Edward froze. His eyes flickered to the book. _The Red and the Black_. It could have been any book, really, because the moment Edward realised that Jonathan had used up his one book this month to cheer him up, his heart skipped a beat.

 

 

5.

“Wow. You sure haven’t showered in a while, have you now?”  
“Edward?” Jonathan blinked at him. He must have fallen asleep while working on his formula. Again. “What are you doing in my flat?” Edward looked dashing, there was no way around it: Custom made, fitted suit; glowing complexion. In comparison, Jonathan realized, he must seem rather… homeless. He scratched his stubbly chin in sudden self-awareness.  
“Curiosity killed the cat. I haven’t seen you round much lately. I figured you’re probably rotting away in your dump again.”  
“It’s not a dump”, Jonathan said, weakly. “And I’m not rotting.” It was a weak lie and he knew it.  
“Well.” Edward had a good look around. “When was the last time you’ve eaten anything?” Jonathan’s brow furrowed. Part of him wanted to be snarky and ask ‘Why?’ but the other half knew that Edward had a point. He gestured towards a half empty jar of peanut butter on the floor. There was a spoon sticking out of it.  
“I had some of that yesterday.” Edward exhaled audibly. It had an ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ vibe.  
“Okay. That’s… not what I expected.” He glanced around again. “I’m hungry”, he finally announced. “I’m going to cook something. Feel free to take a shower while you wait.”  
“This is my flat.” Jonathan snapped. “And you are over-stepping your boundaries.”  
“A shave, perhaps. And some clean clothes.”  
“Edward”, he was nearly growling now but was ignored. Edward had already turned towards the kitchen cabinet, scanning the few items with disdain.  
“I could whip up some decent pasta. Or risotto, maybe. Yes, I think we shall have risotto.”  
“Edward, I’m serious. You should leave. I’m working.”  
“Of course you are. And you will still be working tomorrow and the day after that. Riddle me this: Industries deject me, the dying distrust me but all must have me or fade away. What am I?”  
“Edward-“  
“Rest, Jonathan. And you shall have some.”

 

 

+1

It had all been going according to plan until Edward staggered, lost his footing, and fell backwards, a good 10 feet to the ground. Jonathan sprinted towards the ladder and followed Edward to the warehouse’s ground floor, a snide remark already on his lips. He would never get to voice it though, because as soon as he turned towards Edward he realized that he had miscalculated the situation entirely. A 10 feet fall was, granted, not much fun, but nothing all too serious compared to the dangers they faced almost daily. Edward’s luck had seemingly run dry though: His fall had been broken by a thin, nasty looking iron pole. Blood was soaking through Edward’s shirt where the rod had pieced his stomach and it wouldn’t be long until the dirty floor would turn red as well. Jonathan ripped off his mask and kneeled down besides Edward, whose eyes and jaw were screwed shut. He pressed the burlap against the wound, causing Edward to moan. His eyes flattered open, unfocused.  
“Jon”, he said, trailing off. Then he moved his head a little and finally looked at the gaping hole in his stomach. “Oh.” Then, at the sight of the burlap mask in Jonathan’s blood stained hands. “Doesn’t look sanitary.” He blinked. “Shit.” Jonathan wanted to sound reassuring but the only thing he could bring himself to say was:  
“You barely avoided having your spine severed. Hygiene shouldn’t be your priority right now.” Edward didn’t answer which was alarming in itself. “Edward?”  
“I think”, Edward murmured, breathing hitched, “I think I might be going into shock.” Jonathan clenched his teeth.  
“Don’t you dare”, he snapped, pressing the burlap harder against the wound.  
“B’fore you leave”, Edward added in a breaking, hectic voice. “Could you call an ambulance? Would you-” Jonathan sneered.  
“I’m not going anywhere, Edward. You would bleed out before anyone gets here.”  
“Oh. Oh!” His eyes widened and Jonathan could see how he bit back a scream. “This hurts”, he spat, sounding almost surprised. “Jonathan-“  
“See”, Jonathan said in a forcedly calm manner. “You’re not going into shock.” Edward was grasping for him now, panicking. “Hush”, Jonathan hissed and Edward froze, wide eyed.  
“I want the shock back”, Edward whispered, attempting a joke but failing miserably. Jonathan let go of the burlap with one hand and felt Edward’s forehead. Clam and cold, not as feverish as it might have been in case of actual neurogenic shock.  
“Sorry to disappoint you.” He paused, looked at the mess before him and added. “You’re not going to die.”  
“I fucking well hope so”, Edward spat back, eyes screwed shut again. A thought occurred to him, suddenly piercing the veil of pain that had surrounded him. “Jonathan?”  
“Hm?”  
“Your hand.” He hesitated for just a moment before gripping Edward’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly.  
“There you are.” A voice boomed behind them and both flinched at the sound. “Hand’s up, both of you, and turn around.” Jonathan fought a smirk as he stayed just where he was, ignoring the Batman’s orders.  
“That’s not possible, I’m afraid.”  
“Crane-“ The growl began anew but Edward’s hitched voice cut him off.  
“An ambulance wouldn’t be amiss.” Finally, the Batman bothered to come closer and circle Crane’s hovering frame enough to see what had happened. Neither Jonathan nor Edward took much notice of the Batman calling for medical assistance; they were too focused on holding on to each other. Time started to fasten, then, and all of a sudden there where prying hand’s that tried to push Jonathan off Edward’s body but Jonathan didn’t let go of Edward and only moved enough to give the doctor access to the wound.  
“We can’t move the iron”, the doctor assessed, “He would loose too much blood. We’ll have to cut the rod loose.” They did, and it took almost no time because the thrice damned Batman had a tool for everything these days and finally there came the moment where Jonathan had to loosen his grip – an unexpected pang of an inexplicable emotion hid him when he saw the lost look in Edward’s eyes. He was next to Edward all the way to the ambulance and was just about to enter alongside him when the Batman grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backwards.  
“You’re going back to Arkham, Crane.”  
“I’m not leaving him now”, came the calm reply.  
“Yes. You are.” Jonathan turned to face the Batman.  
“If he goes into shock and dies on the way to the ambulance because he was left alone and terrified, then you are the one to blame.” He didn’t bother to double-check if the Batman agreed with his reasoning and just started to walk towards the ambulance, pushing one of the drivers out of his way when the man had the nerve to try and stop him. He nestled himself down next to Edward and took his hand once more into his own, brushing his thump over the cold skin.  
“There”, he said, and prided himself in the way Edward’s eyes lit at the sight of him. “All settled now.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happenend. Hope you've enjoyed the ride & comments are as always much appreciated. Today's audience participation: Who of the two do you think is worse at adulting? I mean let's be real they are both a total mess, right?  
> Well, hroo, hraa and till next time folks.


End file.
